Facing Ghosts
by Traci
Summary: "Cave of Fear" post-ep where Roxton and Marguerite try to deal with what they saw in the cave.


Disclaimer: Wish they belonged to me but, alas, they do not. Some belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, some to Cootes/Hayes - as if that needed to be said, sheesh. Like we don't already know these characters don't belong to us sigh. But since I'm not wanting the FBI knocking at my door - unless they are Mulder and/or Krycek...then it wouldn't be such a bad idea...oh FBI guys - are you reading this??????????  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: "Cave of Fear"  
  
Category: Post-ep for "Cave of Fear". M/R developing relationship.  
  
Author's Notes: My life is boring so I escape by writing - sue me - no, wait, don't sue me!! I have no money - nada, zilcho!! And who really wants to have to sit through court hearings listening to lawyers endlessly drole on and on and on and on about technical babble that no one really understands - sometimes I question whether the lawyers even know what they're saying... so point being, please forgive my borrowing of these wonderful characters since my real life isn't like Indiana Jones!!!! You know, sometimes I have more fun writing these disclaimer things than the actual story hehehehe.  
  
Feedback always more than welcome at traci_ann@yahoo.com  
  
  
  
1 Facing Ghosts  
  
  
  
Roxton stood staring at Marguerite from the comfort of the gun table. She had made it very clear she did not wish to discuss what had happened in the cave. He couldn't really blame her. Had she asked if he wanted to talk about his hallucination he would have said no as well. He did. Professor Summerlee had extended the offer to listen and he turned him down.  
  
Marguerite, however, seemed to take things a lot harder. Having only known her for a short time, he was pretty sure that her reaction in the cave was out of character for her. She seemed helpless, lost, hurt. She had remained withdrawn from everyone since their escape.  
  
Throwing the cleaning rag down on the table, Roxton quietly walked over to her. He rested his arms over the railing and stood beside her. "Are you alright?"  
  
Her sniffle gave her away. "Yeah, fine."  
  
"William accused me of murdering him."  
  
She turned her head and met his eyes. "But he's..."  
  
"He is," Roxton nodded. "That was my... hallucination. He said I killed him to gain the title, the family fortune..." He paused. "At the time it seemed so real. The pain was real." His light brown eyes searched hers but she turned away. "Marguerite, there is only one other person in this house who knows and understands what you went through. Whatever it was..."  
  
"You don't understand. How could you? You knew your real..." she snapped, then regretted it immediately. "I'm sorry, John." Her eyes found his once again only this time she had tears filling them. "I saw my mother. At first I was so happy." She smiled. "I hadn't seen her since she died when I was ten."  
  
Reaching out, Roxton placed his hand on hers. When she didn't flinch, he tightened his hold.  
  
"Then something happened. I told her I always felt her and her love watching over me. She told me she never loved me. That she knew I was evil from the day I was born. That was why they gave me up. That my father never loved me..."  
  
The tears streamed down her face. Roxton took his hand off hers and slid his arm around her, pulling her close. She buried her face in his chest. "It was so real, John. I never remember hurting so much," she sobbed. "I loved her. She was my mother. And she hated me."  
  
He tightened his hold. "It was only a dream. It wasn't real, Marguerite. What you experienced in there was only your imagination."  
  
She backed away from him a little, reached into her pocket, and held up the heart-shaped locket for him. "They left this with me when they gave me to the convent. I've never gone anywhere without it." She opened it. "These words were all I had to hold onto, sometimes the only thing that ever got me through." Closing the locket, she looked at him. "My imagination destroyed all that. My mum told me they didn't mean it."  
  
Wrapping her hands, locket and all, within his own, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. "How could they not love you?" he whispered. He looked into her eyes. "You'll always have your memories, your true memories. Nothing can take that from you."  
  
Smiling, she reached up and touched his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you for listening."  
  
"You know I'm always here to listen."  
  
She nodded and yawned. "Do you... would you want to talk about what happened to you?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered, smiling back at her. "But not tonight. You're tired. It's been a long day for all of us."  
  
"I don't think I'll be getting much sleep," she admitted, stifling a yawn.  
  
"You should try."  
  
"No, really, John, everytime I close my eyes I relive that moment. I..."  
  
After a long moment of silence, Roxton said, "Why don't you get comfortable. When the others go to bed I'll meet you on the balcony and we can talk."  
  
"If you don't want..."  
  
Placing a finger on her lips, he hushed her. "I don't know when or if I'll make this offer again so I suggest you don't argue with me for once."  
  
Her lips grew into a small smile beneath his finger and she nodded. "I'll meet you there."  
  
**********  
  
The others had retired early that evening, everyone exhausted from their most recent adventure.  
  
Roxton sat on the balcony with two steaming cups of tea beside him. He breathed in deeply.  
  
"Hey," Marguerite softly spoke, tightening the belt of her robe.  
  
He looked up. "Hi. Thought maybe you had actually been able to get to sleep."  
  
Shaking her head, she took a seat beside him on the bench. "No."  
  
"It's Veronica's relaxing brew," he said, handing her a cup.  
  
"Thanks." She took a sip. "Bitter."  
  
"But effective."  
  
With a sad smile, she looked out into the dark, tropical night.  
  
"Summerlee stopped me from jumping off a cliff," Roxton whispered.  
  
She turned her head to look at him.  
  
"William," he paused. "My imagination of him jumped off the railing of the treehouse, edging me on to follow him."  
  
Marguerite swallowed hard.  
  
"I almost did. The guilt of... well, I would have..."  
  
"Remind me to thank Summerlee," she whispered as she took his hand in hers.  
  
Smiling at her, he continued. "It was so real. His voice, the fighting, I could actually touch him."  
  
"I know. I ran over and hugged my mother and it hurt so much when I didn't feel her hugging me back."  
  
Roxton placed his tea back on the table, along with hers, and slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "We'll get through this. One way or another we will... together."  
  
She remained silent, but snuggled close to him.  
  
""I know I'll never be able to understand what it was like for you," Roxton began. "But I just want you to know that not everyone you meet will abandon you."  
  
Biting her inner cheek, she held back the tears and merely nodded against him. Her eyelids felt heavy so she shut them for a brief moment.  
  
"Marguerite?"  
  
She moaned. Someone was nudging her but she was warm and safe and comfortable and did not want to wake.  
  
"Marguerite."  
  
A smile reached her lips, though her eyes remained closed. "Can't you let anyone sleep in, Roxton?" she mumbled.  
  
"I would except I lost circulation in my arm."  
  
Her eyes flew opened and she sat up.  
  
"It wasn't that bad," he said, smiling.  
  
She looked around. They were still on the wooden bench on the balcony and... it was very bright, much brighter than when she had shut her eyes. "What time is it?"  
  
Shaking his arm, he grinned. "I'm guessing around seven. I heard Veronica in the kitchen a few minutes ago."  
  
"Why didn't you wake me?" She yawned and settled back on the bench.  
  
Roxton gently wiped a lock of curls off her face and softly cupped her cheek in his hand. "You looked relaxed."  
  
"But you..."  
  
He shook his head. "I can sleep tonight. You needed it more last night."  
  
With gleaming eyes, she leaned over, touching her lips to his for a brief moment. "Thank you."  
  
Before he could respond, she disappeared into the treehouse. He smiled after her. "Together," he whispered to himself as he, too, joined the others for breakfast.  
  
The End 


End file.
